


A New Beginning

by CanterburyBells



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Did I Mention Sass?, Gen, Retelling of the events after the shipwreck on the IoA, Sass, a lot of bickering, brief mention of a baby slime which is my personal favorite part, three idiots walk into a bar..., what else do I even tag this with?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanterburyBells/pseuds/CanterburyBells
Summary: Zach drags his hands down his face in despair and wonders once again what he did to deserve getting stranded with the two most impulsive, hotheaded people in existence.
Relationships: Builder & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2), Malroth & Builder & Lulu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again everyone! It's been a while since the last time I posted, but I promise that I've been a busy bee:D This is actually not the fic I planned on posting next (I'm around 26k into that one after some recent edits and just haven't finished yet). All it took to inspire me to write this was a day at the beach. I obviously need to stop going, because I was literally writing this. ALL. DAY. But I kind of promised someone that I would post it today (you know who you are), and technically I started posting at 11:59 so I think it counts.
> 
> Few things: This is a retelling of the events of the beginning of the game right after the ship tutorial. But I like to think that I stray from it in several ways.  
> My dialogue/events might be screwed to all hell, but I don’t like to restrain myself to canon when I have the power to do literally whatever I want;)  
> There are also a few things I will have to ask you to just handle with your suspension of disbelief, such as the speed clothes dry or how fast the sun and moon rise (or the direction in with they set and rise lol). 
> 
> For those who haven't played DQ IX: I mention Celestrians in this story. They are basically just angels I guess, it's not super important to know for the purpose of reading this, but I use them to replace where I would reference actual angels since dq technically has their own version:) (Also, if you don't know what angel wing seashells are, you can google them for a quick reference if you need! But again, not really super important to already know)
> 
> Final thing: Since I wrote this in the span of a day, I have had no time to read over or edit it whatsoever. I plan to come back and do that soon, so just ignore any mistakes with grace for now haha!
> 
> P.S. (I am so sorry about the title. I had nothing better. It is still subject to change.)
> 
> On to the fic!
> 
> [EDIT]: I have finished cleaning this baby up, so I hope everyone is ready for the best experience I can offer LOL

Zach is starting to wonder how he got himself into this mess.

Getting kidnapped from his home and tossed aboard a ship full of heretical monsters like an unruly sack of potatoes was unsettling enough (though he did have fun building things for those in need, even if he was their prisoner). But after waking up on a strange and seemingly deserted island and subsequently meeting an even stranger man who showed him the dead bodies of builders that he had seen alive only hours prior—well. Zach thinks it’s understandable that he just wants to go back home now, thank you very much.

Instead he feels himself jostled and brought back to awareness by the peculiar, red-eyed man—Malroth—who motions with a jut of his chin that he should be paying attention.

“Are you lumbering lunkheads listening to me?” Despite the trauma of the shipwreck, the woman who had washed ashore with them is as hale and hearty as a grizzled sailor if the volume of her voice is any indication, and she had immediately wrangled their little ragtag group together the second she realized that she wasn’t stranded with pilfering pirates.

Malroth grumbles irritably beside him. “I’ve been trying not to, actually. I’ll have whatever he’s having.” Zach feels two sets of eyes land on him. Malroth’s eyes glint with mischief, and Lulu’s soulless, black stare makes ice run down his spine.

Lulu reminds them, “If we’re to survive on this wretched rock, then we’ll have to manage to work together. Which means that Zach,” she emphasizes he words by pointing at each of them in turn, “You will build everything we need to live until rescue comes for me. I will keep you on track and offer worldly advice when you can’t think for yourself. I am also a fabulous cook.

“Malroth,” she continues, shooting a wilting glare in his direction, “I must ask that you simply stay out of Zach’s way while he works. I am obviously the most capable castaway on the island, but Zach is a very close second, and we cannot risk ruining the efforts of our only builder.”

Malroth growls at her, and they share a heated glare before they both turn their heads away in unison and cross their arms petulantly. Zach figures it might be time to step in.

“So, Lulu, what did you have in mind to help us survive?” Zach considers how frightened and lost Lulu likely feels so far away from home and stuck with two strange men on an island with no way off. If listening to her demands and meeting them with a smile will reassure her and give her some measure of control over her situation, then he’ll build whatever she asks of him.

“Why thank you, Zach. I’m glad you asked. You are clearly the more mature man here,” she replies with another snooty look in Malroth’s direction. Zach settles a firm hand on Malroth’s shoulder when he moves minutely in Lulu’s direction. “We will need several things to survive here, but I intend to eventually live in the lap of luxury while we wait for our rescuers. That will likely have to wait until tomorrow, unfortunately, as the sun has already moved well past midday.”

They all glance up at the sky—an endless, clear blue interrupted only by a lone seagull crying off in the distance. Lulu continues, “Firstly, I must have a safe place to stay while you run around and build to your heart’s content.”

“Don’t you mean to _your_ heart’s content?” Malroth rudely interrupts.

“Malroth, I did ask you to stay out of our way. Perhaps you could start now.” Lulu pointedly ignores the way Zach’s grip on Malroth’s shoulder tightens even further. “This homely hovel could be turned into quite the lovely, cozy cottage with enough elbow grease. Builder, are your elbows greased up and ready to work?”

Zach reaches up to touch his elbow without a thought before realizing that he’s being an idiot. Luckily, Malroth saves him from answering by holding out a goopy handful of...something. “Here, you could use this. I wrung it out of a sniveling little slime earlier. Will this help your elbows?”

Zach accepts the handful of orange oil from Malroth and tries to figure out how to explain idioms. Once again, Lulu beats him to the punch. Sort of.

“I didn’t mean it literally, you brainless buffoon. But don’t waste that oil. You might need it for my next project. Though first I ask that you fix up our shack so that we have a place to sleep tonight out of the elements. I am sure even a novice such as yourself could make good use of the sturdy sections of shipwreck on the beach and rework them into walls for our shack.”

Zach figures that she has finished her request when she looks at him expectantly and shoos him away with her hand. He heads down to the shoreline to sort out the least waterlogged chunks of washed up wood. He feels the crunch of fragile seashells under his soggy boots but recognizes the telltale trod of another pair of feet behind him.

He turns to see Malroth tromping along after him, hopping purposefully from one big shell to the next, crunching each one beneath his weight and grinning delightedly at the sound. As they reach the main collection of beached ship and Malroth moves to splash around in the water, Zach realizes something.

Malroth’s clothes are completely dry.

Zach can see where the edges of his pants are slowly turning shades darker from where the seawater sloshes onto the fabric. There’s no way this guy washed up with him and Lulu. Zach’s clothes are still dripping and cling to him determinedly despite how he picks at the fabric. Malroth’s clothes are caught by the beach breeze and move freely around him. It’s possible that Zach was out for far longer than he realizes and Malroth had time to move around and dry off. But that would have taken hours, and something about the theory rings false in his head like an accidentally struck piano key.

He watches Malroth crouch and poke at oyster holes in the wet sand and decides to fish a bit. “I don’t remember seeing you on the ship.”

“Huh?” Malroth looks at him oddly. “Well if I wasn’t there, how did I end up here?”

“Oh yeah,” Zach sighs, disheartened. “You can’t remember. I was just wondering why your clothes were dry. Lulu and I are still sopping wet, so I thought...maybe you were already here.”

Malroth frowns down at the sand, arms hanging limply over his knees as he thinks. “If I was, I don’t know how I survived. This place is completely barren, and I don’t have the skills a builder has to have made myself a place to sleep and food to eat.”

Zach taps his chin thoughtfully. He offers, “Maybe you did.” Malroth’s face scrunches into a confused expression. “You don’t remember now, but maybe you were the one who built the shack in the first place. There could have been a bad storm that knocked it down. That could even be how you lost your memory!”

Malroth bounces out of his crouch, caught up in the excitement of a possible epiphany, and exclaims, “You think maybe I used to be a builder after all? Maybe I could take a swing at that old workbench I saw by the shack when we head back then.”

Zach agrees, and together they load up a pile of planks and each pick up one end. But before that, Malroth tosses a last minute addition on top.

“What’s that?” Zach asks, inspecting it curiously.

“The biggest piece of driftwood I could find.” Malroth sets his fists on his hips and puffs his chest out proudly. “I’m great at punching things, but imagine how much damage I could do with a stick this big!”

Zach is only half-listening to Malroth’s vivid and startlingly morbid plans for monster domination as they waddle back to the shack with their heavy load between them. His mind is already racing with ideas of what he could shape that hunk of driftwood into that would be even more useful and impressive.

They meet Lulu back at the shack, and she watches avidly as Zach patches the gaping holes in the two wooden walls facing the beach. He briefly considers plugging the smaller gaps between planks with wet sand but decides that they all might appreciate a cool breeze as they rest during the warm night.

He has a few planks leftover and gets an idea. Lulu will probably be uncomfortable sharing a small room with two men she doesn’t know. The way she talks makes Zach think that she likely led a very cushy life back home in Rippleport. Roughing it with two strangers is new territory for her, so maybe he can do something to offer at least the illusion of comfort.

“Lulu, how would you feel about a partial wall in the shack? You can sleep on one side, and we can sleep on the other. I know it’s not much, but...”

Luckily, Lulu seems very pleased with the idea and claps delightedly. “What a wonderful idea, Zach! I knew you had the makings of a fine builder. The only improvement I can offer on your idea is to keep Malroth on a chain outside. Wild animals should never be allowed indoors, you know.”

Malroth looks ready to adopt his new role as resident wild dingo and tear her arms off with his teeth, but Lulu smoothly moves on to asking about a roof. Zach points up at the rocky overhang above their shack and says that unless the weather takes a sudden and violent turn for the worse, they will likely not have to worry about a roof tonight.

Lulu huffs. “Likely? Well I hope you’re right about that because if I wake up in a swimming pool, I will be very cross. I am already wet enough, thank you.”

Zach grimaces at the reminder. His soggy clothes had pulled and pinched at him the entire time he had been setting up the walls, rubbing like sandpaper over his skin from the grit caught in the fabric, and he was getting more than fed up with them. Lulu apparently notices his discomfort and holds a hand out to him impatiently. “Hand your wet things over to me, and I will hang them to dry. You aren’t any good to us if you are distracted and uncomfortable.”

Zach nervously tugs at his bandana. “What are you going to hang them with?” he asks.

Lulu purses her lips and squints at him like he’s being a moron. “I’m not a completely helpless damsel, I’ll have you know. I assure you that I can be creative when the situation calls for it. Now,” she points at him forcefully, “hand me your sodden things and get ready for your next task.

Zach peels off his bandana, bookbag, vest, shirt, and gloves, handing each to Lulu except his bookbag, which he sets by his feet. She tosses each item over the top of the shack’s wall and then waits expectantly for his pants. He sweats anxiously and shifts in place as two sets of eyes watch him. Do neither of these people have a grip on social cues?

“I’m, uh,” he squeaks, “I’m good. I’d prefer to keep my pants for now.” He breathes out a relieved sigh when Lulu shrugs and doesn’t press. Malroth, on the other hand, takes this opportunity to be nosy.

“What’s that book for?” he asks. Zach scoops his bag up right before Malroth can grab for it.

“Nothing special,” Zach evades. Malroth looks as if he’s about to bully his way into finding out just what is so un-special about it when Lulu clears her throat.

“If you two are quite done, I have another request for Zach.” As Lulu speaks, Zach sets his bag on his opposite side where Malroth won’t be able to reach it without giving his movements away. Then he kicks his waterlogged boots and socks off and starts rolling his jeans up to his knees for easier movement.

“Now that we have a place to sleep tonight, we will obviously need food to keep our energy up as well as something to sleep on.”

Malroth snorts at her. “Well, your head is harder than a rock, so I doubt that sleeping on the ground would really inconvenience you all that much.”

“How odd, I couldn’t hear you over the waves crashing on the shore,” Lulu smiles pleasantly. “Would you like to repeat that?”

Malroth cracks his knuckles in anticipation and sounds all too excited when he repeats, “Would I?”

Zach rolls his eyes, already tired from imagining the long days ahead of him being stuck with these two with nothing to do but argue. “Alright, everyone chill out. How about I start by making something to cook with, and then we can collect some food.”

“Oh, I want to try out the bench, too!” Malroth exclaims. He grabs Zach’s hand and pulls him along, leaving Zach with barely enough time to snag the strap of his bag before he’s dragged away.

Malroth pushes him in front of the bench and stays unsettlingly close as he prompts Zach, “Go ahead and build something. Maybe if I watch, it’ll jog my memory.” So Zach digs around his bag and pulls out some of the loose pieces of wood he gathered from the wreckage. It doesn’t take him long to show Malroth how to build a bonfire, and his efforts earn him an impressed applause.

“Well that looks pretty easy at least. You think I could give it a go now?” Zach nods and steps aside, setting out some more wood for Malroth to use. As Malroth carefully eyes his materials, Zach pulls out his notebook to scribble down the recipe for his new bonfire. He stills as he touches the pages.

The dry pages.

He was wearing his bookbag when he went under. Every other thing he was wearing was soaked to the metaphorical bone...but not his book. The ink from his old notes and blueprints is in perfect condition. Staring a hole through the paper, he marks a line with his quill, also suspiciously dry, and watches as it cuts across the page smoothly. Like nothing is wrong.

Something is _very_ wrong here. Zach is certain of it. He flashes back to his conversation with Malroth earlier about his existence on the island before he and Lulu washed ashore. He had felt uneasy then, and now he has the very same feeling in his gut. His mind chimes with a frenzied energy, running wild with possibilities, but again there is an ill note hiding underneath his churning thoughts that strikes wrong and leaves him feeling as if his fingers have just missed a key. He feels like he was given a blueprint with some very crucial missing pieces, and he isn’t sure how to fill in the blanks on his own.

He’s distracted from jotting down a few questionable conspiracy theories when he hears a loud snapping sound. This time Zach is the one impressed while watching someone else build. He’s never seen anyone break a such a thick piece of wood in half with their hands before. He slips his book into his bag and settles it on his shoulders once more as he considers stepping in.

Malroth groans. “Hold on, let me try again. I’ve got this.” He manages to line up all of the wood correctly this time, but as he starts rubbing two sticks back and forth over the oiled logs, Zach sees an unusual spark flare to life, and suddenly his eyebrows feel toasty. He can’t see through the thick wall of black smoke rising up from the workbench, but he can hear Malroth bite out some harsh words in his frustration.

They both cough and Malroth tears his vest off to beat away the smog. Once it’s mostly clear again, they both look down at the pile of ash on the table. Zach catches a fleeting look of sadness in Malroth’s eyes before he bucks up and slaps a rakish grin on his face again. “Well, that’s a bummer. I guess I’ll just have to rely on you to make things for me from now on.”

Zach offers a kind smile, but his heart goes out to Malroth. He remembers how terrible his own first creations turned out and how frustrated he got over not being able to do things right the first time. Even now, failure is no stranger to him. All Malroth needs is another chance. Maybe he can persuade him to try again later. For now, he settles with polite agreement.

“Sure thing. Let’s get back to Lulu and drop this off.”

When they round the corner of the shack, Zach is surprised to see that Lulu has already improvised a clever laundry line a few yards in front of the door. It looks like she buried two pieces of tall driftwood in the sand and improvised a line with a strand of rope. They catch her squeezing out Zach’s shirt as they carry the bonfire over.

“Oh, what a merry little fire! I suppose that’s your solution for dinner, then?”

“It may not be a five star grill, but I think we can make it work.” Zach smiles. “Do you want it out here?”

Lulu hums thoughtfully before nodding. “I intend to clean the shack before bedtime, so it would be best to keep it out of the way for now. I just need something to move all of this sand out with,” she says as she looks through the open doorway of the shack.

“Ah, don’t worry. That’s an easy one,” Zach reassures. “Can you two help me find a long stick, some rope, and some dried grass?”

With the three of them searching, it doesn’t take long to scrounge up the necessary materials. This time they both watch over his shoulders as he affixes the bunches of stiff grass to one end of a knobby stick with a thin length of rope. Once he ties it off, he the broom out to Lulu with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

She and Malroth clap for him together, finally on the same side for one brief, beautiful moment. It’s shattered when Malroth eventually laughs and antagonizes her. “What a puny weapon! What kind of monsters are you going to bash with that thing? Dust bunnies?”

Lulu glares at him like he not only lost his marbles, but as if he found them again and smashed them under his heel on purpose. “Yes! That is the entire point of a broom, you mindless meathead!”

“Okay,” Zach butts in right as they seem fit to knock each other’s heads off, “Malroth and I are going to go scavenge some food. I’m sure we can find some kelp or something while we’re out.”

Zach drags Malroth away this time, and Lulu hollers after them, “Make absolutely sure to bring back the most mouthwatering of morsels for me to cook with. Even a luxury chef such as myself can only do so much with the bottom of the barrel. I’m sure I spotted some succulent scallywinkles a bit farther along the beach earlier. And try to think up some ideas for bedding while you’re away!”

As they pass the workbench, Malroth pauses long enough to toss his vest, gloves, and boots aside. He laughs as he catches up with Zach again. “Look, now we match!”

Zach’s eyes stray up and down Malroth’s rather _muscular_ form, and his mouth twists with doubt. Maybe their outfits have a resemblance now, but not much else about them is even remotely similar. Malroth seems to notice this too because he bluntly appraises Zach aloud.

“Well, I guess that’s a stretch. You look like a stiff wind could knock you clean on your ass!” His laughter is nasally and brash, but Zach can’t bring himself to be annoyed when he senses no ill will behind his words. Plus, Malroth has finally cheered up again after his disastrous attempt on the workbench, and Zach would prefer to keep him that way, if only to prevent more fights between him and Lulu.

They walk carefully along the beach, Zach avoiding sharp shells that might cut his feet as well as dodging more nosy questions about his book, and they hunt for dinner. The heat of the afternoon sun simmers on Zach’s pale shoulders, and he knows that they will undoubtedly be pink tomorrow. He catches sight of a bouncing slime nearby, an innocent smile slipping and sliding around on its gooey face, and he considers the cooling properties of gel. Maybe if he asks nicely, a slime will give him some goo for his burn.

He’s jolted out of his reverie when Malroth shakes his shoulder roughly. “Hey, look over there! Is that a scallywinkle?” Zach follows the line of his finger and sees a shiny pink shell resting on the sand just inside the reach of the incoming tide.

They hurry over and scoop it up just as the water washes over their bare feet and inspect it together. “Good find, Malroth,” Zach commends. “See any more?”

They end up splitting apart to cover more ground. Malroth runs off down the stretch of beach to dig around in some bunches of dried grass while Zach wades out in the shallow waters to peer down around his feet. The water is refreshingly cool and clear, and he digs his toes into the muddy sand under him.

He stares out at the horizon and feels lost.

The excitement of building things to help people—finally getting to be useful and impress people with his hard work—had distracted him from his terror at being so far from his home and his family and his life. This quiet moment alone is a stark reminder that he’s stranded somewhere he’s never seen or heard of before. This place is seemingly void of human life or any kind of civilization which means that rescue is unlikely.

He’s not a master builder capable of amazing feats. He’s only a lowly apprentice, and not even a good one at that. He might have acted confident earlier when he patched the walls or built Lulu a broom, but what use was he if he couldn’t at least try to reassure his new companions? He feels guilty about tricking them into believing that they can trust him to get them rescued, but he couldn’t live with himself if he just sat by and let all of them suffer for days before joining those poor builders who perished in the wreck.

He at least has to _try_.

The bright sun catches on the frothy foam floating in on the gentle waves and makes the bubbles drifting over the water’s surface shimmer iridescently. He watches the tide carry them back out and longs to go with them. Back home to Cantlin.

He hears a shout to his right and jerks his head up to see Malroth kicking uselessly at a smiling slime. Zach hears him threaten, “Don’t touch my scallywinkles, you useless bag of blubbering goo!”

Zach takes one final yearning look out at the far horizon before turning his back on it and hurrying to Malroth.

He picks the slime up and holds it to his chest right before Malroth can launch it into the sun. “Malroth,” he chides, “it just wants to play. Look how little this one is; it’s probably still a baby.”

The slime wibbles in his arms and makes a funny face at him. Zach smiles back and tickles its side. Malroth watches with wide, interested eyes as the slime gives a bubbly laugh. Zach tells him, “This one probably doesn’t know to be afraid of other creatures yet if the only other monsters on this beach are slimes. It was probably just bored and looking for something to play with.”

Zach sets the slime down and watches it hop over to Malroth. It peeks at his bare toes curiously before making its way back to Malroth’s pile of scallywinkles. It pauses this time, as if waiting for an oncoming kick. Malroth looks guilty as he crouches down, picks up a shell, and holds it out to the slime.

“Here you go, little guy. All yours. Sorry for kicking you.” The slime’s smile grows even bigger, and it makes a sloshy, happy sound as its body absorbs the shell. The scallywinkle floats inside it like fruit in a gelatin dessert.

Before it hops away, Malroth tells it, “If you ever want to play again, you can hop over to that shack.” He points at the blurry shape of the building off in the distance, and the slime blows a gooey bubble before bouncing away.

Malroth gathers his shells into his arms before standing back up. He interrupts Zach—who is slathering the goo left on his chest onto his shoulders instead—by asking what food he found.

“Uhhhh,” Zach wavers, unsure of how to admit that he never actually got around to picking up any kelp. He was too busy feeling bad for himself. Nothing new there, he supposes.

Malroth squints at him knowingly. “You didn’t grab anything, did you?” He sighs heavily. “Your brain only revolves around building, I swear. Well, no sense crying over it now. Let’s just head back and you can be in charge of picking up any dried grass we pass by. Maybe we can make use of it somehow.”

The way Malroth says it surprisingly doesn’t make him feel judged or ridiculed. It sounds as if he truly isn’t bothered by Zach’s lapse in focus. It’s also possible that Malroth is just giving him a freebie after saving him from that dangerous baby slime.

He laughs to himself and agrees to collect grass on the way back.

By the time they return, Malroth’s arms are overflowing with all matter of materials. Zach’s bag wasn’t big enough to fit them all, so Malroth had volunteered his services as a pack mule. Though he had worded it quite differently, of course.

Zach wasn’t going to tell him otherwise.

He guides Malroth over to a cast aside wooden plank near the shack and helps him dump their findings onto it. Lulu peeks out of the door at the sound and looks pleased by the small mountain of kelp and scallywinkles they found. Zach picks out the dried grass as she appreciatively appraises the quality of the result of their exploration.

“That took you two quite long enough, don’t you think? I was near to writing you off for goners. What kept you?” She clasps a scallywinkle in her petite hands and inspects it closely. The breeze blows her hair in the way, and it blends into the pretty pink shade of the shell perfectly.

To no one’s surprise, Malroth responds first. “Uh, hard work? What do you think? We can’t all sit back on our rear ends and let other people do everything for us.” He raises one thick eyebrow tellingly and eyes her distastefully.

“Malroth, you’re such a boorish brute.” She stomps her foot and shakes her scallywinkle at him threateningly. “Are you so thick that you haven’t noticed our resident builder’s signature outfit flapping along the laundry line? And you haven’t even bothered to glance into our splendid little shack to admire the spotless flagstone floors! Were you never taught any manners?”

Malroth shrugs with disinterest. “Who cares? If manners would make me talk like you, then I’m glad I lost my memory.” Lulu looks close to grabbing some kelp and strangling Malroth with it, so Zach steps past them both to look inside the shack.

He’s impressed that Lulu took the time to clear away the spiderwebs from the corners on top of digging out every little sand speck hiding along the room’s edges. He makes a show of clapping to distract her from thoughts of homicide. It has the effect of grabbing Malroth’s attention too, and he even comes to inspect the room himself.

Malroth reluctantly admits, “Okay, so it looks sort of nice. I guess you’re not too useless after all.”

Zach drags his hands down his face in despair and wonders once again what he did to deserve getting stranded with the two most impulsive, hotheaded people in existence. He finally leaves them to their own devices and heads back outside to see about making some bedding—if those two kill each other, then at least he only has to make one bed.

By the time he has sorted out all of their dried grass and moved them to his temporary workbench, he realizes that they still have nowhere near enough to make three piles of bedding. There just wasn’t enough grass where they looked. But there was still more beach past where they had stopped during their earlier search. It’s possible that they just haven’t found all the island has to offer yet.

Before he can weigh the positives and negatives attached to either slipping off by himself in the quickly weakening daylight or waiting for those two to sort themselves out, they exit the shack and make their way over to his work area, seemingly unscathed and unbothered. Maybe one of them administered a slow-acting poison to the other, and they were just making the best of their last few minutes alive?

“Zach, would you and Malroth be dears,” and wow did that word placed in the same sentence as Malroth’s name seem to curdle her tongue, “and go collect more grass? I want the plushest, most cloudlike bed this island has to offer me, so I will require as much grass as you can find.”

Malroth grumbles, but Zach catches Lulu’s booted foot shoot out and crush his toes, and he quiets down as he grits his teeth in pain. Lulu continues. “We were talking, and—”

Zach forgets all of his manners as he interrupts. “Wait, you talked? As in, you spoke like civilized people? No poison?”

Lulu shoots him an extremely unimpressed look and glances at his bare feet as if considering the merit of crushing them too. Zach squeaks out an apology and pinches his lips shut.

“If you’re quite finished being ridiculous...” Lulu says judgmentally. “Malroth and I were talking, and we decided that you are working very hard for us with little thanks. I would like to apologize by making us all a three course meal for dinner while you two scrounge up the last bit of grass we need.”

Their truce is apparently over now that Lulu had admitted her own wrongdoings because Malroth nags her, “How are you going to make a three course meal with only two ingredients?”

Lulu flutters her eyelashes dangerously at Malroth. “Of course, how silly of me! Zach and I will be eating a two course meal. You get three courses, however, because I will be adding sand to your food in hopes of scrubbing your bad attitude away from the inside out.”

Zach stares hopelessly off into the distance as they start bickering anew, but they quiet down quickly when he drops to his knees and thunks his head against the wooden workbench. He hears Malroth whisper something in his rumbly voice, and then he feels a hand on his sticky shoulder.

“Uh, Zach...” Malroth hedges. “Are you okay?”

Zach’s groan echoes against the surface of the table.

“Come on, get up. Will building something cheer you up?”

Zach’s hands itch to handle materials, and he hates that he’s so predictable. But he has nothing else to build right now that would be useful to anyone. Malroth is determined though.

“Maybe you can just watch me and make sure I don’t blow anything else up, then? I want to give it another go.” Zach glances curiously up at Malroth and respects the fire that burns in his red eyes at the prospect of creation. And he _did_ want to urge him to try again...

So Zach clambers back to his feet and makes room for Malroth, who drops another pile of assorted branches on the bench, apparently in hopes of fashioning another bonfire. He reaches over and drags his fingers through the goopy mess on Zach’s shoulders and slathers it on the sorted pile of wood before once again rubbing two sticks together to make a spark.

This time both of his sticks crack in half. He glowers and tosses them aside. Zach slides two more out of his bag and sets them in Malroth’s hands. “Try again. You’ll get it. Just have fun with it.”

Malroth grumbles but starts scraping the sticks together again as he complains, “It’s hard to enjoy myself when I keep making mistakes.”

Zach smiles softly to himself. He can relate to that sentiment more than Malroth may know. “The hardest part of creating is feeling like you have to compare yourself to others. You make progress each time you try, whether you succeed or fail. You’re always learning what works and what doesn’t. It’s difficult to make yourself try again after you fail, especially when you feel like you may not be good enough to deserve another chance, but if you don’t keep trying, you’ll never know what you’re capable of.”

Malroth had stopped squeaking his sticks together partway through Zach’s impromptu lesson, and now he stares at him with his mouth hanging slightly open. He looks like someone has smacked him in the back of the head and left him reeling. Zach isn’t sure why.

“Are you going to...” he points at the sticks to prompt Malroth, but it takes a few seconds for him to blink away his dazed expression.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry.” Malroth shakes his head and looks back down at his hand to refocus on his project. But he seems distracted. Which, Zach suspects, is why he doesn’t notice the sudden bright spark in time to leap back.

Zach throws an arm around his middle and pulls them both to the ground as the half-formed bonfire explodes with an impressive radius. Zach looks at it in horrified awe while Malroth stares at the new pile of ash in dismay. “I really thought I had it that time,” he mumbles.

“Well, that might be my fault for distracting you. I was kind of blabbering,” Zach flounders.

“No, I don’t think that was it. It just didn’t feel right for some reason. Maybe I’m really not meant to be a builder. But then why was I already on this island?” Malroth sounds like he’s on the road to a dark downward spiral, so Zach offers the one thing that might buck his spirits up.

“Do you want a weapon?” he asks. He realizes that he still has his arm draped over Malroth’s chest, and his own bare torso is shoved awkwardly against the side of his arm. He backs away quickly.

But Malroth doesn’t seem to care about his hasty retreat, solely focused on the promise of new weaponry. “You’re going to make me a weapon?” He frowns suddenly. “It’s not going to be a broom, is it?”

Zach leans back on his hands and laughs. “No, no, I have a much better idea. Where did you leave that big hunk of driftwood earlier?”

Malroth hurries off as Zach gets back to his feet, and Lulu rounds the corner of the shack. “What in the wild world was that noise? It sounds as if you two are trying to bring the island down around our ears!”

Zach doesn’t get the chance to respond as Malroth marches up behind Lulu with his hefty handful of driftwood. “Oh yeah, Lulu, your food is burning.”

“My scallywinkle!” she cries, rushing back the way she came.

Zach smirks at him. “Was her food actually burning, or were you just trying to get rid of her?”

“Would you believe it’s both?” Malroth grins back.

Zach laughs again and directs Malroth to set his driftwood on the workbench. He searches the ground for something sharp.

“What are you looking for?” Malroth asks.

“I need something to carve this with. Maybe if I can find a really sturdy shell...”

“Oh, here, take this then. Lulu found it to crack open the scallywinkles with, but she can pry them apart with those demon claws of hers for all I care.” Zach accepts the ragged-edged rock Malroth holds out, assessing its durability.

This is perfect.

The first several minutes of rough scraping and digging on the wood’s surface seem to fascinate Malroth, but he eventually loses interest.

“What are you even making?” he whines. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting more grass?”

“I thought you wanted a weapon,” Zach reminds him teasingly. “Besides, the sun is going down, and we don’t know if any dangerous monsters come out at night here. I’d rather be prepared, even if we have to hurry as soon as I’m done with this.”

He does try to pick up the pace though. No sense in letting the sun completely disappear before they head out again. After he’s done with the rough shape of the wood, he takes several more minutes to whittle each odd stub into a wicked spike. The edges of the rock dig into his hand, but nothing could pull him away from his creation now.

Right as the delicious scent of cooking seafood hits his nose, he finishes off the final spike. He fishes out the strip of leather he uses as a bookmark in his notebook and wraps it around the handle of the weapon to give Malroth a comfortable grip. He knows the contents like the back of his hand by now anyway.

As soon as Malroth had seen the spikes taking form, he had tuned back in and watched Zach’s progress avidly. When Zach offers him the transformed wood, Malroth takes it from him and cradles it in his large hands with an expression that dances on an invisible line between reverence and hunger.

“It’s a club,” Zach says weakly after Malroth stares at it just a few seconds too long.

Malroth looks up at him with that same expression before he blinks and his face smooths back out into a casual grin. “I can’t believe you made something just for me. I’m gonna tell Lulu to go shove it when we come back. She thinks she’s so high and mighty bossing you around. Let’s see how mighty she feels when she sees me carrying this beast.”

He hefts the club proudly and takes a few steps away to swing it experimentally.

“Is the weight comfortable? Not too top-heavy? Is the grip awkward? I can rework it if you—”

“Calm down, builder brain,” Malroth chuckles good naturedly. “It’s perfect. It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given...I think.”

Zach laughs along and stretches out his cramped hand. Malroth spots the movement and walks back over. When he sees the red, irritated lines imprinted in Zach’s skin, he furrows his eyebrows and frowns.

“Don’t work so hard next time if it’s going to hurt you. The point of a weapon is to keep you from getting hurt and to hurt other things. Don’t run yourself ragged for other people so much.”

Zach can’t meet Malroth’s unblinking gaze for long. He looks off to the side as he offers a weak promise. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.”

He still feels Malroth’s heavy gaze on him, as if he doesn’t truly believe Zach’s words, so he tries to get them back on track. “Alright, now that we have another weapon, I think it’s finally time to go get that grass. I’m starving, so let’s make this quick.”

Malroth mutters something lowly under his breath but doesn’t pick a fight over it. They walk together along the beach, stepping out of the way of oblivious slimes and taking the opportunity to view the sunset in its fiery glory before it finally slips below the horizon. Waves of molten gold crash into the shore, and the dry sand beneath their toes glitters like crystal dust.

Zach feels his heart squeeze. He misses home like a freshly severed limb, but the simple ease of beauty about this place calls to him like an empty canvas. This land seems like a world apart from everything else he knows, and spread out before him in his heart lie infinite opportunities. He tears his eyes away from the disappearing sun and straightens his shoulders as he walks forward.

Like Malroth said earlier, there’s no sense crying over the past now. Malroth doesn’t even have the comfort of his own memories to bolster him during this strange situation. Lulu has the ache and heartbreak of personal loss scraping her raw from the inside out. And what does Zach have?

He has the promise of a warm, safe home to return to if he can just manage to not mess this up. Maybe...maybe if rescue does come, he can offer a home to Lulu and Malroth too.

A wobbly shanty on the beach doesn’t make for a long-term place to rest one’s head, but for now it’s all they have. His mother has always told him that home is about the company you keep, not where you keep your company. His two new companions might be hot-tempered and arrogant on the surface, but if Zach’s loss feels like a missing limb, he can’t imagine how they’re feeling inside right now.

Even if all he can offer is a place to stay, maybe together the three of them can grow it into a home.

He feels something fragile and scratchy crunch beneath his bare sole and realizes they’ve reached part of the beach they haven’t explored before. There are no slimes bouncing around this far out. It’s empty and quiet save for the sounds of the ocean and the dry rasp of the grass in the breeze.

Malroth can likely tell that he’s still in a strange mood because he doesn’t pry or strike up a conversation as they lean down and pull grass bunches by the roots. After stuffing his bag and pockets full to bursting, Zach starts to regret not taking the time to make a bucket or basket of some kind to carry the extras in. He glances over at Malroth to see how he’s faring without a bag or even pockets, expecting a pile of loose grass off to his side, but what he sees instead is...

“Why are you sticking the grass down your pants?!” Zach shouts.

Malroth startles with his hand partway down his waistband. He looks at Zach like he’s crazy. “What are you talking about? Don’t be such a priss. This makes way more sense than carrying it by hand. I almost dropped all those scallywinkles last time.” He pulls his hand back out and tugs pointedly at the bottom edge of his pant leg. “All the grass can just sit in the loose parts of my pantlegs, and we can just squeeze it out through the bottom when we get back!” He smiles proudly and wiggles his toes in the sand.

Zach really hates to judge him for his... _creative_ idea after how little judgement he has received from Malroth all day, but it really is just a strange solution. Lulu will probably have a conniption if she realizes that any piece of straw from her bed was in Malroth’s pants at any point.

“But isn’t it itchy?” he tries weakly. “Maybe I could carry it since you’re worried about spilling it?”

“Nope, I don’t feel a thing! And there’s no way I’m gonna let you carry this stuff against your bare skin. You’re already broken out from the sun touching you,” he says, pointing at Zach’s reddened shoulder. “Imagine what prickly grass could do to your soft hide.”

Zach sighs and gives it up for a lost cause. Hopefully he can convince Malroth to empty his pants before they get within sight of the shack so he won’t antagonize Lulu any more.

Suddenly, Malroth’s head shoots straight up, and he stares suspiciously in the direction of what looks like a covered cove at the end of this stretch of beach. “Something’s not right.”

Zach’s heart skips a beat. Has Malroth noticed something else out of place? Is it related to why he’s been feeling off all day? Is there another mystery to solve on this island beyond the unanswered puzzles of Malroth’s missing memory and his suspiciously dry book?

“I’m sensing a strong source of power over there. Zach!” he barks, and Zach jumps in place. “Get your cypress stick. Are you ready for a real battle?”

Zach hastily shoves one last bundle of grass into his bulging pockets and withdraws his own weapon. Next to Malroth, with arm muscles like thick braided rope and a chest like a carved shield, Zach’s skinny noodle arms and beanpole stature pale hilariously in comparison. Even their weapons reflect their usefulness.

But Malroth looks at him expectantly like he’s waiting on Zach to be his partner and have his back, and every sunburnt, wet-jean-chafed inch of him demands that he accept. So he smacks his cypress stick into his palm, wincing slightly at the still sore spots where he held the shark rock and tested the club’s spikes with his hands. He mirrors Malroth’s challenging grin, and together they run toward the cove.

Malroth stops them both before they reach the mouth of the cove, and they crouch as he whispers to Zach, “I don’t know what’s in there, and we can’t really see without giving ourselves away, so be ready to run if we realize we’re outmatched. I’ll stay behind because nothing can beat me with this badass club, but you should—”

“What?!” Zach hisses back. “You just asked me to fight with you! I’m not gonna leave you to fend for yourself. If I have to run, so do you. What if you get hurt?”

“Look, I already told you, nothing can beat me. But if a monster looks at you the wrong way, you’d probably melt.” Zach’s chest boils at the insinuation that he’s weak. It’s a slap in the face after getting excited that someone finally wanted him around for once. His eyes sting at the reminder that no matter how hard he tries, he may never be a good builder, a good fighter, a good friend. 

He grits his teeth and glowers wetly at Malroth. “How about you just wait here since you’re so sure that nothing can touch you? They won’t even get the chance to.”

He leaps from his crouch and rushes into the cave, ignoring a cut off protest from Malroth. The sound of his voice and Zach’s sudden arrival alerts a giant, dozing fat rat and a few sleeping slimes blowing snot bubbles. They all bounce upright and jump straight at him.

His heart aches when he brings his stick down and splatters a slime. He’s always loved monsters. Why did he let himself get talked into this?

He dodges a wicked swipe from the fat rat, but his leg is quickly swallowed up by a slime intent on slowing his movements. He hesitates to smack his stick down into its grinning face—a mirror image of the baby slime’s bubbly smile—and that’s just enough of a distraction for the fat rat to take another swipe.

This one is aimed right at his face, and all he can do is bring his cypress stick up and wait for impact.

Out of nowhere, he hears a war cry, and a flash of vibrant orange darts past his vision. Malroth takes the brunt of the fat rat’s clawed attack before smashing his club down onto its head. The fat rat shrieks angrily and rolls backwards, giving Malroth time to rush to Zach’s aid and kick the sticky slime away.

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes. He has on the same expression he wore when he gave the baby slime a scallywinkle earlier in the day.

He feels guilty, Zach realizes.

Malroth speaks too quickly for Zach to get a word in edgewise. “I don’t think you’re a weakling, Zach. I mean, you’re kind of a bag of skin and bones, but you aren’t useless. You’ve shown us all day long that you can handle yourself. I’m sorry I was being a cocky jerk.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but the fat rat is rising again, and the slimes have stopped wobbling long enough to unionize into a stack of three.

“You’re forgiven,” Zach blurts. “Now let’s get these guys!”

The fight is a quick and efficient affair after they make up. They take turns distracting the fat rat while the other lures the slime stack into place. As soon as it bounces close enough, Zach shoves it with all of his might to knock it forward into the fat rat’s path. Malroth grabs him around the middle and pulls his arms free of its gooey suction, and they watch the fat rat collapse into the blue mess.

The rat squeaks in despair and chatters its teeth at them threateningly, but with one glance at Malroth’s rising club, the rat flails and beats a hasty retreat with three bobbing slimes stuck to its fur. They’re both quiet for a moment, making absolutely sure that nothing else will leap out from the darkened corners of the cave. Zach’s limbs tremble minutely with quickly fleeing adrenaline, and he sighs out a relieved breath.

Malroth whoops loudly and shakes his club in the air wildly. “Yeah, take that you rat! Come back if you ever want another beating from Zach and Malroth!” Zach’s chest floods with warmth once again, but this time it’s a soothing feeling, like golden waves crashing over him.

Malroth had said Zach’s name first.

Like he was a first choice instead of a second thought.

He can’t help the smile breaking across his face or the bubbling laugh that follows. His whole body is sore, the cave offered no answers to the many questions he has, and tomorrow they could easily run into twice as much trouble as they did today.

But he’s not alone. He’s not useless.

He has a home. He has new friends.

He has and endless stretch of days ahead of him filled with infinite opportunities.

He isn’t sure what comes over him, but he holds his hand out to Malroth, palm flat and facing his direction, and Malroth doesn’t hesitate to meet him in the middle. They both look surprised at the resulting smack.

“What was that?” Malroth asks, staring down at his own hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

“A high five,” Zach says back, still shaky and breathless from their battle.

“It felt...nice. Is that something people do after fighting giant rats?”

Zach laughs. “No, uh, more like to celebrate after a job well done.” He rubs his finger into his palm and categorizes the sting as something much more pleasant than the digging of rocks into his flesh.

“Well, we’ll have to high five next time you build something, then.” Malroth grins, and together they leave the cave to head back home.

On the way, Zach spots a sparkling blue shell on the sand and decides to make a quick stop to collect a few for Lulu to decorate her corner of the shack with. As he’s comparing a tiny striped conch and a colorful hermit crab shell, Malroth waves to get his attention a few feet to his right.

“Look at this thing,” he snorts, holding up a long, stringy clump of old seaweed littered with shells fragments. “We could bring this back to her royal highness so she has a crown to match her ego." 

Zach is about to roll his eyes fondly when the light from the rising moon catches on a large white shell trapped in the seaweed. “Wait! Hold still,” he commands, reaching for the shell. He delicately brushes away part of the plant to find...

He gasps. “Celestrians wings,” he whispers reverently. “Oh wow, I think they’re still connected! Here, put the seaweed down.” Malroth follows his lead, albeit with a face of absolute confusion.

“What wings? That looks like a dumb old shell to me.”

“They’re Celestrian wings,” Zach repeats. He carefully extracts the pair of connected shells and sets them in Malroth’s waiting hand. Zach is impressed by the size of them. They easily fill the span of his cupped palm, wingtips even spilling over slightly. “There’s a legend behind them that my grandmother told me about. Supposedly they grant the finder good fortune, and they’re very rare to find. The shells are really fragile, so it’s difficult to find an intact one, much less a connected pair so large. You’re so lucky!”

Malroth accepts Zach’s congratulatory pat on the back but asks, “What kind of fortune? Like wealth? Or super strength?” He looks far too ecstatic about that prospect, so Zach takes a special sort of glee out of destroying those hopes.

“No, good luck in _love_ ,” he answers. He bursts out laughing at the baffled look on Malroth’s face.

“I don’t even know what that is!” he bellows. “It should at least be something useful!”

Zach giggles until Malroth looks seconds away from crushing the shells in his hand. He makes himself calm down and tries to think of how to even begin to explain something as big as love to an amnesiac. He holds his hands out for the shells, and Malroth passes them over. He thinks to himself as he wades out into the shallow waters and begins gently cleaning off the shells. Malroth waits beside him impatiently.

Zach tries to recall the details of his grandmother’s story. “These wings represent two halves made whole by their connection. Like two people, two hearts. Each wing is beautiful on its own, but they’re each a perfect complement for one another. They’re named after the Celestrians—protective, benevolent guardians that live in the clouds and watch over us. These shells are shaped like their wings.” He traces the ribbed edge of a shell as he drips water over its surface to chase away the clinging sand. “They’re a sign of powerful, selfless love, and the color represents the purity of the finder’s heart.”

Malroth watches his hands closely as he cradles the wet shells in his pale hands. The moonlight shines down on them and makes the wings glow with an ethereal light. “I still don’t think I understand what exactly love is. Is it a thing? Or a feeling?” He reaches out slowly, as if afraid to startle Zach and make him drop the shells. He traces a finger thoughtfully over the glistening, white surface before scooping some more water up to run over it.

Zach hums. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Love is such a big idea. There are so many ways to feel it and express it. No one person is the same. And you can love anybody—your friends, your family, a partner. For me it’s like this feeling that I would do anything for my family, anything to keep them safe and happy forever. When I think too hard about it, my chest gets tight, and it’s overwhelming and hard to breathe.”

Malroth snorts gracelessly. “Sounds like a disease to me. Keep that love stuff far away from me. I don’t want to be infected.”

Zach rolls his eyes as he passes the shells back to Malroth, who takes them with a surprisingly delicate touch. “I can’t believe you’re fated to love someone so deeply and profoundly, but you’re still afraid of cooties.”

Malroth sputters. “Afraid?! I’ll show you afraid!” He picks his club up off of the ground and sets them off a playful game of chase all the way back to the shack, leaving the deep impression of their footsteps in the sand behind them.

Lulu must hear them shouting halfway down the beach because she’s already waiting for them with her arms crossed as they approach. “Boys, boys,” she admonishes as they screech to a halt in front of her. The light from the bonfire is merry and bright, and surrounding it are two driftwood logs that weren’t there earlier. Just outside of the ring of light on the sand, Zach’s clothes flap like flags in the breeze. The scent of salty seafood hangs in the air, obscuring an even stranger scent that Zach can’t quite put his finger on.

“You two make sure to wash off before settling down to eat. I don’t want your fleas all over my food. And please remember your manners—especially you, Malroth. I will not have any wild dogs around our cozy campfire. Now shoo. I will go grab our dinner from inside.”

As soon as she closes the door, Zach remembers the dried grass conundrum. He pulls Malroth back as he heads towards the shoreline and shoves him around the side of the shack. “Get the grass out of your pants before Lulu comes back!”

A lightbulb seems to blink on above his head, and he smirks. “Ohhh, would it bother Miss Bossy Boots to know that I carted around her bed in my pants?”

Zach resists the urge to react like Lulu and attempt homicide. “Just take your damned pants off,” he hisses threateningly.

Malroth’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. “You want me to take them all the way off? I mean, if you think it would be easier that way...” He reaches for his belt, and Zach smacks his hand away, ears flushing hot.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Just—! Look, sit down, and we can just do it the other way.” So Malroth takes a seat on the sand, and they each start frantically tugging tufts of grass from his pant legs. Zach hears the creak of the shack door, and in his panic he tosses his handful of dried grass right in Malroth’s face and hisses, “Just leave the rest in there!”

They have just made it back to their feet, Malroth still spitting grass out of his mouth, when Lulu peers around the corner. “What are you two up to? Have you not even washed up yet?” she asks disdainfully. “And Malroth, why are you eating grass? I knew you were a wild beast, but I took you for a carnivore.”

Malroth finally spits out the last strand and dryly answers, “It wasn’t really my choice.” He shoots a pointed frown in Zach’s direction. “We were just putting aside the grass we grabbed. Zach’s just taking forever. Come on, Zach, let’s go wash up.”

Zach is pulled away as he yanks the final bunch of grass from his pocket, and they hurry down to the water to splash their faces and wash away sweat and slime goo. When they make it back, Lulu has already set out her array of dining options on a relatively clean plank of wood to the side of the fire. Zach peers at them closely only to find that the kelp and scallywinkles are nearly identical in their appearance.

That is, neither looks particularly appealing or even remotely edible.

Lulu points to the pile on the left and announces with a proud lilt to her voice, “This is my signature Scrumptious Scallywinkle Surprise. And these,” she gestures to the pile on the right, equally charred and unrecognizable, “are my Crunchy, Colorful Kelp Crisps.” She claps for herself, apparently not noticing that neither Zach nor Malroth joins in.

Malroth leans close to Zach’s ear and whispers, “Is burnt a color?”

Zach can’t make his mouth open wide enough to answer. The longer he stares at the food, the tighter his jaw locks itself. His stomach has switched from hungry gurgles to agonized wails at the thought of ingesting something so foul. He thinks it’s trying to concave to avoid the possibility.

Malroth is still looking vaguely ill and desperate for an answer, so Zach just shakes his head minutely so that the movement doesn’t catch Lulu’s attention. Despite his caution, he feels his arm hair rise and goosebumps break out on his skin. He looks up and sees her watching them both with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Aren’t you two hungry?” Lulu asks, voice laced with the promise of great peril should either of them make one wrong move. “You’ve been running all over the beach for hours, and I slaved over a hot bonfire to make these for us. Go on, eat as much as you want.”

 _What if I don’t want any?_ Zach thinks to himself hysterically, but the look on Lulu’s face advises that he say literally anything but that. He sticks with a polite, if forced, “Um, thanks.”

Dinner is a painful event. They relax on the driftwood logs Lulu had dragged over and all avoid each other’s eyes as they choke down their food. Zach feels his tongue shrivel and his throat revolt the second he bites into a scallywinkle. Lulu had somehow managed to completely sear the outside a startling shade of pitch black while leaving the entire middle oily and pink. He isn’t sure which part is more dangerous to consume. The kelp crisps are impressive in how they retained their slimy texture through their outside layer of solidified ash.

He takes a risky glance at Lulu and realizes that her dainty nibbles on along the edge of her own scallywinkle allow her to carefully never take an actual bite. Malroth, on the other hand, had laughed after his first bite of kelp and called them “Absolutely disgusting!” before wolfing the rest of it down and going in for seconds.

Zach doesn’t even bother to wonder what cruel force decided to strand him here with these two anymore. There’s no sense in crying over things he can’t fix. He might as well make the best of it.

Once they’ve both eaten enough to please Lulu, they all head over to the workbench one last time for the night and watch Zach work his magic and toss together a few simple straw beds. After Malroth and Zach share a quick high five and a knowing grin, they all lug their mattresses (Lulu’s carefully made with only the straw Zach had gathered) into the shack and lay them down along one wall, with Lulu’s behind the makeshift partition.

That reminds Zach...

“Hey, Lulu. We found some shells on the beach we thought you might like. You can decorate your side of the room if you want.” Zach pulls a handful of shells from his pocket and passes them to Lulu, who eyes them appraisingly.

“I suppose you found the best ones available for me, yes? I would prefer a few larger ones, maybe in pink or white, but these will do for now. Thank you very much for thinking of me, Zach. I know Malroth had nothing to do with this.” She pouts at Malroth where he is crouching by his bed but suddenly exclaims, “Why was I not offered _that_ shell?”

Zach looks over and sees Malroth setting his Celestrian wings on the side of his bed closest to Zach’s. He hadn’t noticed that Malroth had held on to them.

“This is my shell, Lulu! Back off!” Malroth sticks his tongue out rudely at her and hunches over the Celestrian wings as if preparing to defend them.

It was a surprising shift from his earlier attitude. Zach wonders what caused the change of heart.

Lulu just huffs in irritation before stomping away to her side of the room.

“Now, I must get out of these soggy clothes if I have any hope of sleeping tonight. Zach,” she says, slipping behind the wall and rustling around, “would you be a dear and hang my dress out to dry on the line before you turn in? I would simply perish if anyone saw me in any state less than perfection.”

Zach accepts her dress when she holds it out around the corner of her wall, and as he leaves the house, he hears Malroth ask her bluntly, “Then why are you still alive?”

He lets the door slip shut behind him and cut off the rising sound of their voices. He savors the soft slide of sand beneath his bare feet as he walks to the clothes line. Lulu’s dress gets tossed over his shoulder while he peels his still-damp jeans off and carefully unwraps one side of the rope from around the wooden driftwood pole. He slides both garments onto the line—his pants hanging awkwardly by the belt loops—and ties it back. He slings his belt over the line before he prepares for the storm he left behind in the shack.

It’s eerily quiet when he walks in, but he quickly deduces that it’s due to his companions winding down for the night rather than spontaneous murder.

He hears Lulu pipe up behind the wall and say, “Thank you again for being such a gentleman, Zach. I truly appreciate you building me my own wall and hanging my dress up to dry. I expect you both to uphold these chivalrous ideals for as long as we remain trapped on this island together. That means no peeking past my wall. You know what they say about curious cats.” Her words are honey sweet with a sharp and promising edge, not unlike a beautiful, deadly-poisonous flower.

Malroth shuffles around on his straw, and Zach sees him scrunch his face up in blatant disgust. “Who would want to look at you? You’ve got half the beach in your hair and smell like sour scallywinkle.”

Zach feels an ominous energy emanating from behind Lulu’s partition and wonders if this is the same energy Malroth had claimed to feel coming from the fat rat’s cave. “Malroth,” Lulu chimes, “You had better count your lucky stars that I respect myself enough to not march around this wall in my underthings and beat you to bloody death with your own club.”

Malroth looks ready to sling a harsh retort, so Zach tosses a handful of straw from his bed at his face again.

Malroth blows a raspberry at him.

They all settle down after that, but no matter how Zach twists or turns or rolls, his bare back itches uncomfortably against the scratchy straw. After several more long minutes of this, he has almost talked himself into going to grab his still damp clothes from the line and just sleeping on them when he feels a roll of fabric hit him in the chest.

He grabs it and squints through the limited light. It’s Malroth’s purple vest.

Zach blinks over at him to see that he’s staring straight back. He had taken his hair tie out at some point when Zach had gone outside, and now he’s sprawled comfortably on his back lying on top of his ridiculously thick hair.

“You keep squirming, and it’s keeping me up. Just put that under you and stop wriggling. You think that’ll be enough, or do you want my pants too?”

Zach was about to thank him until that last bit. Instead, he squawks and flails his arms helplessly. “No, keep your pants on!”

“You wanted them off earlier.”

He and Zach bicker back and forth until Lulu gripes at them both to behave and shut up so she can get her much needed beauty rest.

Malroth grumbles petulantly, too low for her ears, “Much needed is right.”

Zach feels a bit guilty for hogging one of the only dry pieces of clothing available when Lulu has been dressed in soggy garments all day. He wonders aloud, “Do you think she would sleep on your vest if you offered to let her borrow it? She’s probably uncomfortable too.”

Malroth grunts, “Maybe if she lies there and scratches herself for a while, her snake skin will peel off.”

Zach rolls his eyes.

“Plus,” Malroth continues, his voice starting to droop and slur with exhaustion, “I offered that to you. Not her. She wasn’t the one who had my back all day. You were. Now I get to have your back too.”

After that, Malroth is out like a light. The room quickly fills with the nasally sounds of his snoring, and he isn’t even bothered when moonlight spills over the edge of the shack’s wall and bathes him in its soft light. The Celestrian wings glow radiantly between their beds, and Zach reaches out to brush his finger over the top of the shell nearest to him before finally lying back and closing his eyes.

The cool beach breeze slips through the cracks in the wall that he left unfilled and slides over his skin soothingly. His shoulders radiate warmth, and the back of his neck is tender from the touch of the sun. He can hear their clothes on the line outside catching wind like colorful sails. The waves, now an inky black contrast to their earlier golden glow, crash calmly against the shore and finally lull him to sleep.

Tomorrow the sky will greet them with a mysterious green shade. Zach will wake with pink cheeks and shoulders and beat out his sandy clothes, awash with the clean scent of a salty sea breeze. Together they will pass by a spot on the beach where their footprints were branded only hours earlier before the sea washed them away, leaving a clean slate.

Tomorrow they will march up a mountain. They will meet a strange, forgotten being. They will be offered a land of infinite opportunities.

But tonight Zach allows himself to be lulled by the snoring and soft breaths of his new friends and hazy dreams of a new adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard, so I'll add more to this later. Let me know what you thought! I love hearing what people's favorite lines are, so if you had one, please share:D
> 
> [EDIT]: Forgot to mention: I never got to really explain what was going on with the whole dry pages of Zach's notebook (I'm not explaining about my thoughts on Malroth's dry clothes bc spoilers!). But due to the events of the story, I felt that I needed to at least give some kind of explanation on the book? Which should have been ruined and sopping wet?? My idea was that a certain villain used their powers to prevent the book from being ruined because it's a very necessary item (for other reasons I also don't want to spoil!) Was that a bad explanation? Yes. Yes it was. But I felt like I was leaving something sticking out oddly without trying to say that "Yes, I had a reason for doing that" haha
> 
> [EDIT]: I forgot to mention that you guys can come chat with me on Tumblr at howwnowbrowncoww if you want! I linked my writing account on my first fic but I never use it lol. Come talk to me about dqb2!


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